


if it fits, it ships

by thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot, big dick problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2019-01-16 21:05:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12350634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Fujigaya’s life is hard even when he’s well-endowed.





	if it fits, it ships

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for trope bingo (transportation problems).

Contrary to popular belief, Kitayama’s not sleeping _all_ the time between shots, though this time he wishes he had been.

“Wait, are you serious?” Nikaido exclaims, louder than anyone should have the right to be considering the next thing that comes out of his mouth. “How fucking big are you?”

Fujigaya drops his head into his hands. “This is why we don’t tell you anything.”

“ _Again_ , Taisuke?” Yokoo asks, more exasperated than concerned. “Are you not giving them enough foreplay or something?”

That gets Tamamori’s attention. “What the hell are you even talking about?”

“Gaya’s packing so much that it’s painful and they make him stop,” Nikaido informs the room. “Apparently this is a reoccurring thing.”

“Bullshit,” Kitayama calls, and the others turn to look at him. “There is no way that is possible.”

“I am not at all interested in your opinion,” Fujigaya tells him without looking up.

“Girls need to be worked up, you know,” Yokoo goes on. “You have to take your time or it will hurt—”

“ _I know that_ ,” Fujigaya hisses. “That is not the problem, trust me. Those girls are like fucking waterfalls by the time I even get there, and they _still_ can’t take it for more than a minute or so.”

Kitayama wrinkles his nose at the graphic description. “Ew.”

“Girls sound complicated,” Senga comments from where he’s curled up with his knees to his chest, looking attentive like he’s in class or something.

“Gaya-san, girls can push a _baby_ out of there,” Miyata speaks up, and now Kitayama’s even more disgusted. “You cannot sit there and tell me that you’re bigger than a newborn baby.”

“That hurts them more, idiot,” Nikaido tells him. “Sex is supposed to feel good, not like _labor_.”

“I hear American girls are loose,” Tamamori offers. “There are lots of those around here. I see them at concerts all the time.”

“That’s just a myth,” Yokoo says. “Like how Asian men are supposed to be really small.”

Fujigaya snorts. “Pretty sure I disprove that one.”

“I still don’t believe you,” Kitayama says, and Miyata nods in agreement. “I mean, I’m above average and I fuck _guys_.”

“Maybe it just looks bigger because you’re so short,” Tamamori says seriously.

“You wanna find out?” Kitayama asks airily, and Tamamori hides behind Miyata.

Senga’s still staring at Fujigaya like he’s the knower of all things sexual. “So what, they just make you stop?”

“I kinda don’t have a choice,” Fujigaya answers pointedly. “They feel really bad, which makes me feel bad, and I just lose the mood.”

“So glad I don’t have that problem,” Yokoo says with a grin, stretching his arms over his head smugly.

Kitayama watches Fujigaya’s face frown and decides that no one should ever have to be jealous of Yokoo’s dick, not even that guy. This gives a whole new meaning to ‘taking one for the team’, but Kitayama honestly feels sorry for Fujigaya, and maybe a little curious. Kitayama’s taken a lot over the years (sometimes more than one), so he’s fairly confident that he can handle whatever Fujigaya’s got. The man doesn’t burst out of his pants or anything, after all. He can’t be _that_ much of a grower.

This is entirely more thought than Kitayama ever wanted to give to Fujigaya’s penis, though considering what he’s about to offer, perhaps he should be thinking about it _more_. Fujigaya’s incredibly attractive underneath his bitchiness and Kitayama finds it easy to separate the two, recalling rather slutty poses and facial expressions over the years along with the soft grunts Fujigaya makes when he works out. Kitayama wonders if all of that transfers over to the bedroom, because he could totally get behind that—metaphorically, of course.

Kitayama thinks about it as he stretches himself, taking his time as much as he wants to rush. It’s much better when someone else does it, but he manages well enough and besides, he doubts Fujigaya will do it. He knows just how to touch himself, though, rocking back against his own fingers that grow in number as he becomes more relaxed. He makes it to four, unable to get more than the tip of his thumb inside, but only because he can’t bend his wrist any farther. If it was someone else’s hand, he could probably get over that last knuckle, no problem.

It’s so much, but Kitayama finds that he loves the strain from being filled past capacity. Four fingers spreading out inside him, nowhere near deep enough to touch him where he wants it, yet Kitayama’s still a moaning mess on his own bed before he even touches his cock. Once he does, he can hardly move his fingers anymore, his body shaking from the pressure. He feels like he could cut off his circulation like this, but luckily it only takes a few strokes before he’s tightening even more and spilling onto his stomach.

The next time he works with the group, he walks right up to Fujigaya and makes a fist in his face. Naturally Fujigaya thinks Kitayama is going to punch him and jumps back, but Kitayama just smirks at him as he wraps his other hand as far as he can around the widest part. “Are you bigger than this?”

“What?” Fujigaya gapes at him, then seems to figure out what Kitayama means and flushes bright red. “No.”

“Then it’ll fit,” Kitayama says simply, rather enjoying Fujigaya’s general progression of trauma as his eyes slowly widen. “Think about it.”

Then he walks away, dropping to stretch before practice, and they don’t talk about it again. Fujigaya must be taking Kitayama’s advice, though, because every now and then Kitayama will catch him looking, or he’ll make a dumb mistake right after Kitayama does something that involves moving his ass. Kitayama might move his ass a little more than necessary just for fun, even if it’s really mean to taunt someone who hasn’t been able to finish inside anyone in a while, maybe ever.

Out of all the reactions Kitayama expected, finding Fujigaya on his doorstep with a six-pack _that night_ was not one of them. “We have to work tomorrow,” Kitayama greets him. “Have some consideration.”

“It’s not that late…” Fujigaya protests, looking a cross between frustrated and embarrassed. It’s kind of cute.

“That’s not what I meant,” Kitayama says, lowering his voice for the benefit of any lurking neighbors. “I probably won’t be able to _walk_ after you’re done with me, so making me _dance_ the next day is just cruel.”

“I didn’t—” Fujigaya starts, and Kitayama bursts out laughing at how red his face gets, dragging him inside before any rumors can get started. “I didn’t come over here for that!”

“What’s with the beer, then?” Kitayama teases. He’d forgotten how much fun Fujigaya is to rile up. “As much as I appreciate you bringing your own, I don’t even like that kind.”

“It’s for me,” Fujigaya says, looking sheepish as he clings to the box like it’s offering him moral support. “Because I can’t even _begin_ to talk to you about this until I’ve drank away some of my shame.”

“What’s shameful is you needing to be drunk to have a conversation,” Kitayama tells him, snatching the bottle from Fujigaya’s hand before he can open it. “It’s just sex, Taisuke.”

“Maybe it’s just sex to you,” Fujigaya mutters, eyes lingering on the beer Kitayama has confiscated. “I actually have to _like_ the people I sleep with.”

“Aw, you don’t like me?” Kitayama mocks, pouting up at him. “Then I really don’t know why you’re here.”

“Because you’re offering, and…” Fujigaya sighs. “I really, really want to finish inside someone for once.”

“Have you ever been able to?” Kitayama asks conversationally as he hunts up some cups for tea. “You can’t have always had a basilisk in your pants.”

A loud thud clues him in to Fujigaya banging his head against the counter. “No, I haven’t. I didn’t do it until I was nineteen, you know.”

“I didn’t know,” Kitayama says, mildly amazed. “I think I was fourteen.”

“You also didn’t grow up in Johnny’s,” Fujigaya points out.

Kitayama just shrugs. “I’d probably have gotten it a lot _more_ if I had.”

That makes Fujigaya cringe. “I keep forgetting we don’t play for the same team.”

“Yet you’re the one who’s gonna fuck me,” Kitayama points out, and Fujigaya stares at the carpet. “Look, you don’t have to like me to do that. An ass is an ass. Do you want me to dress up like a girl?”

Now Fujigaya turns to stare at him. “What? No!”

“Oh come on, I make a really convincing girl.” Kitayama finishes brewing the tea and shoves one cup under Fujigaya’s nose. “I don’t even have to try very hard.”

“That is true, but…” Fujigaya trails off as he takes a drink, looking like he wishes it were something stronger. “Isn’t that rude?”

“Taisuke, I don’t care if you pretend I’m someone else,” Kitayama tells him. “I could give a fuck if you like me or not, as long as you can get hard and show me what all the goddamn fuss is about.”

“Why are you even doing this?” Fujigaya asks, and Kitayama feels like this is the entire reason Fujigaya is here tonight. “This has nothing to do with you, and you’re the one who will be reaping most of the consequences here.”

“Who says they’re bad consequences?” Kitayama contests. “I like getting laid. A lot, actually. And I’m interested to see if I like it better when it’s bigger. I’ve had two before, but that was _too_ much.”

“Two?!” Fujigaya exclaims, nearly dropping his teacup, and Kitayama falls over laughing. “How do you even do that?!”

“Very carefully,” Kitayama answers, his laughter fading to a thoughtful smile at the memory. “With a little patience and a _lot_ of lube, anything’s possible.”

Fujigaya looks like he’s still processing the concept of double penetration, so Kitayama leaves him to it and drinks the rest of his tea. He’d purposely used a calming blend, which seems to be working as Fujigaya nerves don’t look ready to short out anymore.

“Okay,” Kitayama finally says, earning Fujigaya’s attention. “I have to know.”

“Know what?” Fujigaya asks, looking both wary and curious.

“How big it is,” Kitayama answers, and Fujigaya pales. “Just close your eyes and try not to think about it.”

Before Fujigaya can figure out what is happening, Kitayama pushes him up against the counter and gropes right between his legs. Fujigaya gasps but doesn’t move, his head falling back at the contact while Kitayama’s eyebrows shoot straight up into his hairline. Even through Fujigaya’s pants, he can barely get his hand around it when it’s _soft_.

“Damn,” Kitayama hisses, and Fujigaya shivers at the breath on his collarbone. Kitayama feels him start to harden and palms him along, unfastening his pants with his other hand. “Come on, let me know what I’m getting myself into here.”

Fujigaya opens his mouth to respond, but all that comes out is a beautiful moan that goes right to Kitayama’s cock. Kitayama’s a sucker for noises, and the more of them that Fujigaya makes, the more Kitayama wants to earn them. He gets Fujigaya’s pants open and shoves his hand inside, wrapping it around the thick length that grows even more when Kitayama touches him directly.

“What do you like?” Kitayama asks, his voice lower than usual, surprising even himself. Fujigaya jerks in his grasp and Kitayama frowns. “Should I stop talking?”

“No,” Fujigaya answers, shaking his head like he’s forcing himself to do it. “It’s fine, I…”

“You like it?” Kitayama guesses, feeling a little smug as Fujigaya slowly nods. “It’s okay to think I’m hot when I have my hand on your dick, you know. I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

“I just—” Fujigaya interrupts himself to moan again, which has Kitayama pressing his lips to the taunting throat right in front of him as Fujigaya rocks up into his touch. “Oh, just like that.”

“Feel good?” Kitayama asks into Fujigaya’s skin, finding out for himself when he swipes his thumb over the head of Fujigaya’s cock and finds it wet. “Is this as big as it gets?”

Fujigaya scoffs. “You say that like it’s not big enough for you.”

“Yeah, because I make a habit out of fucking tree trunks,” Kitayama says sarcastically, and Fujigaya actually laughs. “Though the way you went on about it, I expected something where I’d need both hands to even grab onto it.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Fujigaya mutters, though he doesn’t sound that apologetic as Kitayama gets a good grip on him and starts to stroke. “ _Fuck_ , you really know what you’re doing.”

Kitayama rolls his eyes. “Got one of my own, don’t I? The perks to messing around with boys. You’re really missing out.”

“Apparently I am,” Fujigaya says, and while Kitayama has a response to that on the tip of his tongue, he doesn’t voice it. “Are you trying to make me come?”

“Why, is it working?” Kitayama replies facetiously, flicking his wrist a little more just to be a brat. “It’s not _that_ damn big, anyway. I could probably fit it in my mouth.”

That has Fujigaya moaning again, surprising Kitayama with active contact in the form of a hand on his shoulder. It’s probably just to hold himself upright at the thought of Kitayama sucking him off, but it’s still a pleasant touch.

“Has anyone ever done that to you before?” Kitayama asks, gasping when Fujigaya shakes his head. “You poor, poor man.”

“My jaw hurts just thinking about it,” Fujigaya says sadly, and now his fingers are clutching onto Kitayama’s shirt. “Mm, I’m close.”

“Hold on.” Kitayama stills his hand and smiles when Fujigaya whines. He doesn’t let go, just relocates onto his knees, which has Fujigaya staring down at him in disbelief. “Don’t look so surprised—you’ve seen how big I can open my mouth.”

Now that he’s eye level with it, though, he can understand why it sends the girls running. While intimidating close up, it just makes Kitayama wants to try harder, stretching his jaw a little before leaning in to lick the tip. Fujigaya’s groan fuels him on, those eyes locked on him when he glances up to see, and Kitayama takes great joy in watching Fujigaya’s face as he starts to suck the head into his mouth.

He can’t get very far, because while he can certainly open his mouth wide, his throat he cannot, but it seems to be more than enough for Fujigaya to tremble before him and grab onto the counter to hold himself up. Kitayama’s careful to mind his teeth as he starts to move, back and forth as fast as he can, and the next time he looks up he can’t see through the fringe of bangs that have fallen into his eyes.

Fujigaya’s shaky hand sweeps them away, lingering just long enough to complement the doting look Kitayama never thought he’d see from this one, at least directed toward him. Right now Fujigaya loves him, as he should with as strained as Kitayama’s jaw is already. If Fujigaya lasts much longer, Kitayama might have a problem saying his drama lines tomorrow.

“‘m gonna come,” Fujigaya mumbles, his knuckles nearly white as he tightens his grip on the counter, and Kitayama pulls back enough to accept the release on his tongue. It’s a good thing he did, because Fujigaya’s hips buck as he comes, a loud cry echoing throughout Kitayama’s apartment and ringing in Kitayama’s ears as he swallows.

Making a face at the taste—Fujigaya needs to drink more fruit juice—he gets to his feet and dusts off his knees, lunging to grab Fujigaya by the waist when he starts to slump down to the floor. “Let’s go sit on the couch.”

‘Sit’ is more like an unceremonious flop, though Fujigaya’s not quick to push Kitayama away when Kitayama lands halfway on top of him. Kitayama figures the only time Fujigaya is easygoing and agreeable is post-orgasm, when he’s left with just enough energy to reach up for Kitayama’s shoulders and hold onto them like it’s the only way to stay grounded.

“Should I…” Fujigaya starts, pausing to take a breath that elevates Kitayama as well. “I mean, do you want me to return the favor?”

“Oh no,” Kitayama replies, and Fujigaya looks relieved. “Don’t worry about it. If you’ve never done it before, then it’ll just be annoying.”

“Hey, I could do it,” Fujigaya says, now haughty. “I can open my mouth wide, too.”

Kitayama bites back a smile. “You sure you want to argue this?”

“Sorry, habit.” Fujigaya squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head. “I can’t think clearly right now.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Kitayama tells him, giving him a pat on the arm before pushing himself up. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“Um,” Fujigaya says, leaning up on his elbows and squinting. “I guess, just, when is a good time?”

“Mm, my schedule’s pretty packed these days,” Kitayama gloats, noticing Fujigaya rolling his eyes as he fixes more tea. He’s lying boneless on Kitayama’s couch with his pants open, though, so Kitayama decides to pick his battles. “We just have meetings on Wednesday, right? I have filming late on Tuesday, but these things are supposed to happen after midnight anyway.”

Fujigaya snorts. “What am I, your booty call?”

“Pretty sure I’m _your_ booty call,” Kitayama points out, and Fujigaya says nothing. “Anyway, that’s the soonest, sorry. You know how it goes.”

“Yeah,” Fujigaya says. “I mean, I don’t know what it feels like the day after taking it in the ass, but I imagine it’s not very pleasant.”

“Not usually, and that’s with regular-sized guys.” Kitayama pops his jaw for effect, then notices the way Fujigaya cringes. “Honestly, you’re the only man I know who is unhappy that he’s got a big one.”

“You would be too if you kept hurting everyone you tried to sleep with,” Fujigaya grumbles.

Somehow it feels like Fujigaya is referring to more than physical pain, but Kitayama’s not about to ask. He doesn’t want to get into some endless conversation about feelings, especially when it focuses around Fujigaya being literally cockblocked from a relationship. “Well, you’re not gonna hurt me, even if I can’t be your cute girlfriend.”

Not Fujigaya narrows his eyes. “Don’t say that like I want it.”

Kitayama laughs and brings over the tea. “Here, drink this and go home. I have early filming tomorrow.”

He expects another bitchy comment, but Fujigaya just shuts up and does what he’s told. For once. Kitayama watches him as carefully as he dares, wondering for not the first time what could possibly be going on in that fluffy head of his. Unlike before, however, he can’t decide whether he’s better off not knowing or not.

Regardless, he’ll probably find out when they have sex. Which, while it had been Kitayama’s idea to begin with, weighs heavily on his mind for the next couple days. He doesn’t regret offering by any means, though something about seeing Fujigaya so vulnerable and insecure doesn’t settle well with him. It’s almost like they were friends, or at least two people who gave a shit about each other past corporate obligation. Kitayama doesn’t hate the guy, but he doesn’t want to sit around and listen to him whine either. Unless he’s whining about how much he wants Kitayama’s ass or equivalent.

In addition, Fujigaya is actually being _nice_ to him. At least, he’s not sulking and acting like Kitayama’s existence is a huge inconvenience. Kitayama even catches him smiling a few times, _at him_ , and now he’s really concerned for Fujigaya’s mental health. He remembers what Fujigaya had said about needing to _like_ the person he sleeps with and sincerely hopes that the younger man is just building it up for this purpose, intending to go back to normal after they do it. Kitayama really doesn’t need that mess, even if this might be the best sex he’s ever had.

“You’re not going to be stupid about this, right?” Kitayama greets him sleepily on Tuesday night. “I mean, we still have to work together for, like, the rest of our lives.”

“Of course not,” Fujigaya answers, his jaw set as he brushes past Kitayama and kneels down to untie his boots. “You want to set boundaries or something? No kissing, or whatever. I don’t really care.”

Kitayama’s standing right in front of him when he leans back up. “Are you sure about that?”

“I’ve never done anything like this before, Mitsu,” Fujigaya says, swallowing hard under Kitayama’s stare. “Everyone I’ve been with, I’ve really liked, maybe loved. This type of casual thing is completely new to me.”

“Fair enough,” Kitayama replies, and Fujigaya visibly relaxes. “I’m fine with no kissing if it will keep you from falling in love with me.”

Fujigaya makes a face that has Kitayama struggling to hold in his laughter. “That’s not even…” he starts, then sighs. “Let’s just do this before you fall asleep standing up.”

It’s not until he mentions it that Kitayama realizes he’s swaying where he stands, nearly losing his balance when he tries to right himself. The back of the couch isn’t that far away, but Fujigaya’s closer and Kitayama’s hit with a rush of warmth when Fujigaya’s arms wrap around his waist, steadying himself.

“Sorry,” Fujigaya gasps, moving to let go as fast as he’d grabbed on, but Kitayama stops him by taking advantage of the close contact to press his nose to Fujigaya’s throat, feeling him shudder.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly, breathing in the scent of Fujigaya’s cologne that’s not that unappealing at all. “Get used to being close to me like this. You’re going to be a hell of a lot closer.”

“You just want me to carry you to your bedroom,” Fujigaya says, though his roaming hands prove otherwise.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” Kitayama mumbles, arching at the strong touch to his back that instantly drops to his ass. “Oh, there you go.”

“You like this?” Fujigaya asks, and it’s dirtier than it should be with the promising way Fujigaya’s squeezing his flesh, pulling the skin tight around his rim.

“Mm, yeah,” Kitayama replies, no stranger to talking dirty by any means, and he notices how Fujigaya seems to relax at the words. “I already stretched myself for you, so when you do that it makes me want it more.”

Fujigaya gasps. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Kitayama drags his lips along Fujigaya’s neck, groaning when Fujigaya squeezes harder. “Didn’t think you’d want to do it, or wait for me to do it.”

“I could do it,” Fujigaya scoffs, and Kitayama would roll his eyes if he wasn’t so fucking turned on right now. “And I wouldn’t mind watching you, either.”

That surprises Kitayama a little, but Fujigaya chooses that second to grind them together and Kitayama’s focus shifts to the hardening mass in Fujigaya’s pants. “Oh. Taisuke.”

“Come on,” Fujigaya hisses, unceremoniously hoisting Kitayama up by the backs of his thighs and relocating them further into the apartment. “I don’t know where your room is.”

“Down the hallway and to the right,” Kitayama directs, pressing the words into Fujigaya’s skin that tastes as good as it looks as he wraps his legs around Fujigaya’s waist to give him better leverage. This has them rocking together, Kitayama’s erection growing to match Fujigaya’s, and Kitayama’s blood runs hot at the prospect of having that inside him.

“You want it on your back, or…?” Fujigaya asks awkwardly, though his hands don’t stop kneading Kitayama’s ass as he holds him up.

“That’s fine,” Kitayama answers, already leaning back to scoot up on his bed as Fujigaya lays him down onto it. “Start off this way, because turning me over makes it go deeper.”

Fujigaya groans low in his throat, which is suddenly quite far away as Fujigaya kneels between Kitayama’s legs that spread for him. They’re both still completely dressed, but that doesn’t stop Fujigaya from scratching his nails up the insides of Kitayama’s thighs, making Kitayama shudder and buck his hips up toward nothing.

“This is so surreal,” Fujigaya says, staring down at Kitayama and running his hands all over Kitayama’s thighs like he can’t bring himself to break contact. “I feel like I’m with a girl, but I am very aware that you’re not a girl.”

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Kitayama tells him, for the second time, reaching down to pull his shirt over his head and start in on his pants. He notices Fujigaya’s eyes on him and moves a little slower, feeling the heat in his gaze. “Just do it.”

Fujigaya opens his mouth to speak, but then Kitayama’s lifting his knees to push off the rest of his clothes and doesn’t bother lowering them back down, leaving himself spread open and clenching at the rush of air he feels. He stretches to the side for the lube and condoms he left there for easy access, finding Fujigaya shamelessly staring right between his legs.

Kitayama has no problem being watched, though now he feels compelled to put on a show as he slicks his fingers and presses two of them inside himself. He’d gotten almost his entire hand in earlier, just like before, but all of this tension has made him tighten considerably. It’s easy to get to where he was with the heat of Fujigaya’s eyes fueling him, a contemplative look on his face as Kitayama slips in a third finger and finally a fourth.

“Does that hurt?” Fujigaya asks, and Kitayama shakes his head, the depth of Fujigaya’s voice making him push back against his own touch. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” Kitayama breathes, snapping his wrist faster. “I can’t get very far, though. This angle isn’t good at all.”

“Do you want—” Fujigaya starts, then halts himself abruptly as he seems to reconsider whatever he was about to offer.

Kitayama’s body lurches at the chance to have a deeper touch, Kitayama himself too far gone to pretend like he doesn’t know exactly what Fujigaya was about to offer. “Why are you even still dressed?” he asks instead.

It’s purely a distraction tactic, which works perfectly as Fujigaya yanks his shirt over his head and starts in on his pants. He probably doesn’t even mean it to be seductive, but he may as well be dancing on Kitayama’s lap for as much of a striptease as it feels like, at least while Kitayama’s touching himself like this. Right now Fujigaya is fucking hot, getting hotter with each inch of golden skin that’s exposed until he’s gloriously naked.

“You don’t have to,” Kitayama finally says. “But if you don’t mind, I would really, really like it.”

There’s not an answer at first, at least a verbal one as Kitayama focuses his eyes to find Fujigaya fumbling with the tube of lubricant, emulating what he’d seen Kitayama do to his own fingers. He hesitates while Kitayama fingers himself like he’s simulating sex.

“You should probably use this with girls, too,” Kitayama points out. “Even if they make their own, it may help them take it for longer.”

“I don’t wanna think about girls right now,” Fujigaya says firmly, a determined look in his narrowed eyes as he nudges Kitayama’s hand out of the way with his knuckles and eases a finger inside him. “Oh.”

“ _Oh_.” Kitayama’s already rocking back, feeling it deeper than he could ever get himself, and he can’t stop his body from seeking it out. “More, Taisuke, please.”

Fujigaya pushes in a second finger, then a third, moving them around until he grazes Kitayama’s prostate and Kitayama nearly arches off the bed with a sharp moan. “What did I do?”

“Keep doing it,” Kitayama gasps, and Fujigaya listens. “Fuck, just like that, one more, you’re still bigger than that.”

Now Fujigaya groans, the fourth finger making quite a stretch since his hands aren’t as small as Kitayama’s, but Kitayama reaches down to tug his cock enough to relax. They both groan as Kitayama’s body squeezes around Fujigaya’s fingers, giving Fujigaya a taste of what he’s in for. He keeps hitting Kitayama deep, making Kitayama slow down to keep from ending this entirely too soon.

“This really feels that good?” Fujigaya asks curiously, and Kitayama can’t keep the smug look off of his face. “Not that I’m thinking about it or anything. You just look like you’re ready to explode and—”

“Taisuke, shut up and fuck me,” Kitayama says clearly, leaning up to grab Fujigaya by the dick and pull him forward. Fujigaya yelps, but it fades into a soft groan as Kitayama strokes him and reaches for the condom. “Mm, I can’t wait to have this in me. I’ve thought about nothing else all week.”

“Fuck,” Fujigaya sputters out, pressing his face into Kitayama’s collarbone for lack of a better place, and Kitayama resists the urge to mess Fujigaya’s hair up even more.

“That’s the idea,” Kitayama taunts, and Fujigaya jabs him harder in retaliation, though it just makes Kitayama want it more. He tears the condom packet open with his teeth and carefully rolls it on, squeezing a little harder than necessary just to hear the low noises Fujigaya presses into his skin, almost like a purr. “Let me hear your voice. I like it.”

Fujigaya nods, his next noise hitched as Kitayama lubes him with both hands. His fingers are still moving, but there’s quite a bit of resistance. “Are you sure you can do this?”

“Just… go slow at first,” Kitayama tells him, reaching down to tug on Fujigaya’s wrist. “It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but…” Fujigaya interrupts himself with a moan as Kitayama gives him one last squeeze before shoving him into position. “If it hurts, let me know, seriously.”

“Seriously, I will,” Kitayama tells him, using every iota of willpower within in him to relax and brace himself for the biggest intrusion he’s ever had, which hesitates at his very stretched rim. “Do it, Taisuke.”

Fujigaya takes a deep breath and rocks forward, sharp enough to push through the initial ring of muscle, where he pauses with wide eyes and quick breath. Kitayama nods frantically and Fujigaya keeps going, filling Kitayama to capacity and then some as he seems to never stop. “Too much?” Fujigaya asks breathlessly, his voice piercing through Kitayama’s haze. “I don’t have to put it all the way in—it’s still good at just half.”

“That,” Kitayama starts, having a hard time forming his words. “‘ts okay.”

Lips press against his collarbone and it’s calming, making him relax even more and they both groan as Fujigaya bottoms out, his thighs brushing against the backs of Kitayama’s. Kitayama clutches onto his arms to keep him from moving, just for a few seconds while his body gets used to having Fujigaya inside him.

“This feels amazing,” Fujigaya breathes, and that helps Kitayama relax, too. “I don’t even have to move. I can just feel you tighten over and over and probably get off that way.”

“Mm,” Kitayama says noncommittally, mostly because he can’t say anything else, his skin tingling from the pressure. Shakily he loosens his grip on Fujigaya’s arms, lowering his hands to Fujigaya’s hips and guiding him to pull out very, very slowly before pushing back in.

Just the small movement has Fujigaya moaning, which has Kitayama arching to hear more of it. His legs wrap around Fujigaya, urging him on, and Fujigaya’s next groan is lingering, intensifying with each small thrust he gives on his own. It’s so, so tight, but the motion makes it easier, and Kitayama throws his head back with a shrill cry that’s pulled right out of his throat when Fujigaya hits him just right.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama gets out, using the absolute last of his coherency to speak, because Fujigaya takes that as a request to go harder and Kitayama can’t think anymore. It doesn’t hurt, not at all, but it’s so _much_ and Fujigaya doesn’t even try to go fast, getting louder like he likes it better this way. Kitayama imagines he doesn’t usually get to do this for very long, so anything is better than having to stop.

“Are you okay?” Fujigaya asks after a bit, his voice barely a whisper, and it’s so sweet and considerate in the middle of such raw, carnal sex that Kitayama slips and falls a little, but just on the inside.

All he does is nod, because that’s all he _can_ do, his fingers squeezing Fujigaya’s hips hard enough to bruise. He doesn’t even feel bad about it because Kitayama won’t be able to _sit_ tomorrow—maybe waiting until a day full of meetings wasn’t a good idea after all. But he can worry about that then, because right now he feels stimulated from head to toe, a fresh wave of sensations washing over him each time Fujigaya pushes deep inside him.

“So good,” Fujigaya rasps, looping his arms around Kitayama’s shoulders as he speeds up a little. “Mitsu, oh god, I’ve never made it this far before. I’m so close.”

Something pulls at Kitayama’s heart, something he’s not about to try and understand midcoital, distracting himself by prying one hand away from Fujigaya’s hip and onto his cock. He’s so hard that he hisses upon contact, tearing a strangled groan from Fujigaya’s lungs when he tightens even more around him.

It only gets better when Kitayama starts to touch himself, his own noises getting louder as he doesn’t waste any time and moves at least twice the speed of Fujigaya’s thrusts. “Come,” he chokes out, his body rocking from the force as he gets close.

Fujigaya moans in response, a loud one with a lot of depth that vibrates Kitayama’s chest as Fujigaya pounds into him particularly roughly, then falls still. He can feel Fujigaya’s cock pulsing inside him while Fujigaya himself shudders and gasps, so enticing that Kitayama wishes he could have watched it properly. Though it’s not that much of a regret when he spills over his own fingers, his mind exploding and leaving his skin covered in pins and needles, both hot and cold.

“Please get up,” Kitayama murmurs, whining when Fujigaya pulls out a little too quickly.

“Fuck, I did hurt you,” Fujigaya says, much more coherent than Kitayama as he leans over Kitayama in concern. “Why didn’t you tell me to stop?”

“I’m fine,” Kitayama assures him, wincing as he tries to lower his legs. “I’m always sore afterwards, that’s par for the course.”

“Seems like a big sacrifice to pay.” Fujigaya’s still eyeing him, like Kitayama will suddenly fall apart beneath him or something. “Is it worth it?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Kitayama answers immediately, and Fujigaya hides a smile. “It really is.”

“Thank you so, so much,” Fujigaya says earnestly, and Kitayama shoves at him. “I’m serious.”

“Don’t get mushy,” Kitayama teases him, ignoring how his heart seems to beat faster instead of calming down.

Fujigaya laughs. “Adding that to the boundary list along with kissing?”

“Fuck boundaries,” Kitayama says, grabbing for Fujigaya’s hair and yanking him down. Their mouths crash together, completely ungraceful and uncoordinated, and Kitayama wouldn’t expect any less from the pair of them. Yet neither one pulls away, Fujigaya twisting his body to lie right next to Kitayama’s, and Kitayama knows the instant Fujigaya kisses back that that one had crossed the boundary long before it was even set.

Fujigaya’s hands on his body feel perfect, soothing the tingles that still remain from their sex, and Kitayama curls toward him with only a little ache. Tongues slide together and Kitayama loses his mind more than before, threading his fingers through Fujigaya’s damp hair as they kiss enough to make up for all the kissing they haven’t been doing this whole time.

“It would be a pity,” Kitayama says much later, “to only let you experience that once.”

Fujigaya’s smirk is promising, the first of many times Kitayama will see it. “It would be.”

“And since I’m the only one who can take it, well.” Kitayama shrugs. “I suppose I can let you do it again. Just not right now. Or tomorrow.”

Lifting an eyebrow, Fujigaya looks at him expectantly.

“Next week looks good, actually,” Kitayama goes on. “Maybe next month.”

Now Fujigaya just looks cocky, but Kitayama cherishes it. Because Fujigaya’s grin is more smug than Yokoo’s has ever been, and Kitayama’s job here is done. At least until he can walk again.


End file.
